


... Win Lovely Prizes??

by Argent_Vulpine



Series: The Long Game [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Female My Unit | Byleth, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Golden Deer Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Golden Deer Sylvain Jose Gautier, Love Confessions, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), what is a beta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27387883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Argent_Vulpine/pseuds/Argent_Vulpine
Summary: Five years after the fall of Garreg Mach, Sylvain, Felix, and the Golden Deer return to find that Byleth is... alive? Sylvain struggles with his renewed feelings for her.
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/My Unit | Byleth
Series: The Long Game [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2000740
Kudos: 42





	... Win Lovely Prizes??

Claude’s missive had somehow made it through Imperial lines, crossing from Alliance territory into Faerghus. Sylvain could only assume it was Yuri’s doing; the man had the markings of an excellent spymaster even before the war had begun, it would only stand to reason that he become such over the long years of the war itself.

It seemed that Claude still intended on returning to Garreg Mach for the five-year reunion, as promised.

Some small part of Sylvain thought the man was made. He was Duke von Riegan, now, he surely had better things to do than chase after ghosts.

But another part of Sylvain wanted to believe. The professor had promised, after all. Five years was a long time. No one had found her, not even buried in rubble. But if she was alive… why hadn’t she returned? It had been better to think her dead, to grieve her in private. Otherwise, he wasn’t sure he would be able to focus on the war. And with Dimitri presumed dead…

Well. That was two important people in his life who were no longer around.

He had been staying with Felix when the letter arrived; the Fraldarius heir had burst into the room, shoving the letter in his hands while holding a copy of his own, a scowl on his face (not unusual, especially these days).

“Get your things together,” the man had said, dark hair falling around his face. “If you want to make it in time, we’ll have to leave tomorrow.”

“Who says I want to?”

Felix stared at him for a long moment before stalking over, stabbing Sylvain’s shoulder with a finger. “I know you, idiot. You need this.” _We_ need this, he very clearly didn’t say.

That, really, was what settled it more than anything. Sylvain knew that Felix had grown close to the professor, too. They’d been near-daily sparring partners, and had grown a friendship out of that, perhaps even to Felix’s surprise. He needed some sense of closure as much as Sylvain did.

The tall redhead raised his hands in surrender, giving his friend a wry grin. “Okay, fine. I’ll get packed up. We leaving at first light, then?”

“ _Tch_. Earlier. I don’t want the old man to see us off and if we wait until light, he’ll insist on it.”

Some things never changed. “Then I’d best start getting ready and get some rest. You should, too.”

Felix had nodded once, sharply, and stepped away, pausing for a moment in the doorway as if considering something to say, before he huffed out a little sigh and left, words unspoken. They didn’t need to be, anyway. Sylvain could see the gratitude.

It wasn’t the easiest of journeys, going back to Garreg Mach. Edelgard had people all over, watching the roads and bridges, patrolling and causing trouble. They’d had to sneak past quite a few. Rumor had it that the monastery had fallen to ruin when the Church’s folk had vanished – presumably in search of Rhea who’d disappeared shortly after the professor had fallen – and bandits and looters had taken over.

As such, Sylvain had come extra prepared. He and his warhorse were armored up, the Lance of Ruin strapped down to the saddle while he carried a strengthened steel lance.

As he and Felix approached the monastery grounds, they could hear fighting already. Claude and the others? Who else had decided to make the foolish journey for a promise made before war had broken out?

Felix glanced up at him, drawing his sword, and with barely any warning the man slunk away, heading into the general direction of the fray. Sylvain nodded slightly, understanding, and adjusted his grip on his lance, spurring his horse onward.

The sounds of battle grew louder. The unmistakable cries of Leonie rang out over the abandoned town; he could see the occasional glimpse of the wings of her Pegasus as she darted through the air, a small battalion not far behind.

A large wyvern hovered overhead for a moment; Sylvain glanced up to see a smirking Claude looking a little haggard but more at ease than he’d been in a long, long time. “Glad you could join us, Gautier!” he called, nocking an arrow and letting loose on a bandit that Sylvain could hear but not see. “There’s more up ahead!”

“And just what schemes have you gotten us into this time, von Riegan?” asked the redhead, not really expecting an answer as he surged forward on his horse. They rounded a wall and came head on with a bandit; the man didn’t last long at all against Sylvain’s lance.

Steadily he fought through, catching the occasional glimpse of other former classmates: Raphael and Ignatz, the bigger man providing cover for the small archer’s sniping shots; Hilda, heavily armored on a horse as stout as his own, her axe swinging with seemingly wild abandon; Lorenz, also mounted, but he’d given up lance in favor of magic, setting bandits aflame or dropping crumbling rocks onto their heads.

And in the middle of it all…

… was the professor. Alive. Pale green hair seeming to glow in the firelight, looking as if she’d stepped through time. A little dirtier, her clothes still torn, silver blade flashing as she took down the enemy.

Somewhere behind her he could even see Marianne, protected by Lysithea and throwing out healing spells whenever an ally drew close. An enemy archer spotted them, and the professor called out something he couldn’t hear; in a flash, Marianne was gone, deposited elsewhere by Lysithea, who brought forth a powerful dark spell on the archer.

Time seemed to stutter, and then the professor was rounding on him. “Behind you, Gautier!” she cried, alerting him to the presence of a large axe mere moments before it was swinging. He yanked on the reins, drawing himself and his horse out of the way just in time, taking advantage of the bandit’s staggering step to ram the lance down.

He did _not_ stop to see what he’d just done. War had made killers of them all, and while bandits normally might have warranted some small amount of mercy, well… he’d almost died.

Felix rejoined him, berating him for being an idiot but taking up a flanking position to protect Sylvain’s blind spot as they moved into the center. The sounds of fighting grew dimmer until there was nothing left but the quick, panting breaths of the survivors: his classmates… and one professor. An impossible woman.

“Look at that, Teach! All your Deers back together! It’s been… a long five years. We’ve got a lot to catch you up on,” Claude was saying as he landed his wyvern, hopping off in a showy dismount.

What Sylvain wanted to say would have to wait. There were more important matters to attend first.

He found her a few days later, back in the room she’d had five years ago, straightening up the scattered detritus left over by time. A broom was propped up nearby, waiting; Sylvain picked it up, using the broom handle to knock on the door frame. “Mind if I help?” he asked when she glanced up from righting her overturned desk.

She shook her head, gesturing for him to go ahead, and he slid into the room, shuffling past her so that he could start from the back.

The two worked in relative silence for a few minutes; he stopped sweeping to get a rag so he could wipe dust off the shelves, adding to the growing pile at his feet. His own room had received similar treatment, but being on the enclosed second floor, it hadn’t gathered quite as much… everything.

“You’re not going to ask?” she finally said, breaking the silence to look up at him, a deeper question in her eyes.

“We’ve all heard by now. You were asleep for five years, probably the doing of the goddess.” He’d been angry at first, thinking it a lie, but after seeing the state of her clothing, her armor, her _everything_ , he had to admit it was the truth. She’d looked exactly as he’d seen her when she’d fallen. What other explanation could there be?

It was disconcerting, but honestly… she’d stepped out of a hole in the sky. What was one more strange occurrence that couldn’t be explained?

If anything, he was only mad at how she’d ended up in that state in the first place. If he hadn’t let her go, if he’d insisted that she retreat with him and the rest of the class… but no. He knew her well enough to know she never would have done that.

She hummed, a neutral sound, as she picked up the broken shards of her water pitcher, frowning down at the remains.

“Ah… let me check some of the other rooms for a replacement,” he said, setting down his cleaning cloth and making to step around her… but she stepped in front of him, stopping his progress. Confused, he looked down at her, his breath hitching when he caught her inscrutable stare.

There was a long silence that stretched between them. He didn’t know when she’d put the broken pottery down, but when she reached tentatively for him, he didn’t move. He didn’t dare even blink. Her hands felt so small when they gripped his arms.

He wanted to protect her. Oh, he knew she could protect herself, but… she’d been _dead_ , as far as most were concerned. And he… and he… he cared about her…

“You got taller,” she said, shattering the quiet. “And broader.” Her lips curled into a sad smile. “I’m sorry I missed it.” Her voice had grown soft; he would have missed what she’d said if she weren’t right in front of him.

It was enough. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug. She hesitated a moment, as if unsure what to do, before her arms twined around his back, holding him so gently in return. They stood like that for a long minute before he finally – reluctantly – pulled away, cheeks tinted pink with embarrassment. “Let me… go get you that pitcher now.”

She nodded wordlessly, stepping aside so he could pass and look through the rooms of students he was sure wouldn’t be coming back.

When he brought back a second chair in addition to an unbroken pitcher, she elected not to say anything at all.

The war progressed at a faster pace with the professor’s return. After five years of stalemates and steadily losing lands to the Empire, all it had taken was her reappearance to reinvigorate the efforts of all involved. Claude’s schemes grew more and more complicated, sometimes making Sylvain as if he was running to catch up.

The professor restarted her old habits. Tea with her former students, sparring in the training grounds (no one so much as squeaked about how Felix took up most of her sparring time), fishing in the pond and feeding the cats and dogs that had slowly returned to the grounds.

Instead of classroom lessons, they met in the old cardinal’s chamber, going over tactics and strategies, working out logistics for the war. The professor took groups out to deal with skirmishes, routing bandits from the forests around the monastery, clearing demonic beasts from trade routes, dealing swift justice to pirates along the coast in order to protect supply ships.

Sylvain went with her every time.

He’d gotten injured during one such skirmish, nothing major enough for serious healing, but it stung and made sitting in the saddle a little more difficult. It was still hurting a few days later when the professor approached him about it (how had she known he’d been protecting her?) and he’d had to admit – finally – that he didn’t want her dead. (He never had, and he’d thought she was before… he certainly couldn’t see her die _now_.)

Even now, he still couldn’t admit to himself that somewhere along the way… he’d fallen in love with her.

She never saw him for his Crest. She saw Sylvain. Saw what he was capable of, his strength, his mind. She’d acknowledged is intelligence, his capacity for strategizing.

Yeah. He was definitely in love with her. How could he have been so stupid to think otherwise?

And she… probably wouldn’t give him the light of day.

He was healed, ready to go back into battle, and to prove it was sparring against… Felix. Of course. Well, he’d _been_ healed, at least.

His friend was ruthless, battering down on him, pushing Sylvain back and taking advantage of the lance’s weakness whenever possible. Sylvain was breaking a sweat, but then, so was Felix, his lips twisted with scorn whenever he came too close to breaking Sylvain’s defense.

“Get your head out of your ass,” snarled the swordsman, sliding under a jab from the lance and popping up on Sylvain’s left. “I can tell you’re not really focusing.”

Wasn’t he? … ah. No. Felix swept his legs out from under him, making Sylvain land on his butt with a _thwump_ and a cloud of dust.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” A gloved hand reached out to him, helping him stand, and then Felix was in his face, glaring him down. “Is this about…? Of course it is. _Tch_.” He made a disgusted sound in his throat and stepped back, motioning for Sylvain to pick up his lance. “Just tell her already. Stop moping around.”

“Tell her what, exactly? That I’m an ass? That I said a lot of shitty things to her that I didn’t really mean, and also, hey, I’m love with her?” He sounded disgusted with himself. “Why would she care about me like that? I’ve done nothing to deserve it. And besides, we’re in the middle of a _war!_ Now probably isn’t the best time anyway…”

The soft _tak_ of boots he was all-too familiar with sounded in the training grounds, drawing his attention away from a smirking Felix. _Shit._

She was there. Watching. For how long? Judging from the look on her face… long enough.

“Fraldarius, could you give us a moment?” she asked, glancing briefly toward the man in question.

“Sure thing. Training after dinner as usual?”

“Of course,” she replied, nodding and stepping to the side so Felix could exit the chamber.

The door swung shut behind him, leaving Sylvain alone with the professor. He swallowed, heat creeping up his neck.

“Your lance, Gautier,” she said, nodding to the item at his feet.

Sheepishly, he picked it up. She gestured toward the weapon rack, indicating he should put the weapon away. He did so carefully, taking his time, steeling himself for whatever was about to come. Rejection… a lecture, perhaps?

He certainly wasn’t expecting her to be right behind him when he turned around, green eyes staring up at him, seeing into him. “Felix is right,” she said with the slightest of smirks. “You really are an idiot.”

And then… she was up, pressing her lips against his. It didn’t take him long to lean into it, to wrap his arms around her, drawing her close. Her hands came up to his head, fingers carding through his hair as she deepened the kiss, a satisfied hum in her throat.

They broke apart to breathe, Sylvain’s heart racing. He buried his nose into her hair, taking in the scent of her, the way she felt against him.

She gave out a huffing sort of laugh, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I know I’m not the best at… at showing emotions…” she said, trailing off for a moment, “… but I love you, Sylvain.”

His heart skipped a beat, and he couldn’t help but press a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “I love you, too… Byleth.”

Months later, when he stood in front of her, all nerves and ready to propose, he had to reflect back on how very, stupidly lucky he’d been. They’d lost people to the war, people he grieved, people he’d known, had attended the academy with. He knew that Byleth had felt all of those losses personally, all the people she couldn’t save.

But in the end, they had each other, and he promised he would see her happy for the rest of their lives together.


End file.
